MILF
by Scribe Teradia
Summary: Albus Severus is dating Pansy's daughter, so why is he fantasizing about his girlfriend's mother? M for a reason.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own J.K. Rowling's universe, I just like to have fun in it on occasion.

**MILF  
**by Scribe Teradia

"Are you sure you want to do this, Al? It's not too late to back out, you know."

Albus Severus Potter looked down at his girlfriend and nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He wasn't the least bit sure, and he knew he'd betray that uncertainty if he said anything out loud. Curse Malfoy for putting unwanted thoughts in his head that wouldn't go away; Al wouldn't be dreading the thought of finally meeting his girlfriend's mother if it hadn't been for their best friend.

It should have seemed odd, he supposed, to have known her for six and a half years and never been introduced to her mother, but he'd learned a long time ago that the word 'odd' had no real meaning when it came to her.

When Rose's father had commanded his daughter so imperiously not to get too friendly with the Malfoy boy, he should have known the contrary girl would do precisely that. Tugging Albus along on the pretext of looking for another of their cousins, she'd searched nearly the entire train until she'd found the compartment where the blond-headed boy had squirreled himself away. He'd been head-to-head in conversation with what Al thought was another boy (and he could hardly be blamed for that assumption, since the school's dress code insisted that girls were to wear skirts), and when they'd looked up with twin expressions of suspicion he could have sworn they were related. It wasn't until they were making introductions that he discovered Violet was a girl, a mistake she rarely let him live down, that first year. Albus was short for his age, barely taller than Rose, and Violet was almost abnormally tall for hers, of a height with Scorpius and two full inches taller than Al, with a hippogriff-sized attitude and a biting, sarcastic wit that both Scorpius and Rose found tremendously amusing.

Upon arriving at Hogwarts that first year, it was no surprise that Potter, Albus and Weasley, Rose found themselves in Gryffindor, nor was it a shock for Malfoy, Scorpius to be Sorted into Slytherin. The call of Parkinson, Violet, sent whispers up and down the hall, and there were more whispers when the girl herself appeared, still in trousers, which apparently was almost as much of a scandal as the fact that her mother had clearly had her out of wedlock. She had stalked up to the stool, glared at Professor Longbottom and then the bedraggled Hat, and sent more glares around the room when it announced, "Slytherin!" before even touching the choppy dark hair framing her face.

There was already a Potter and several Weasleys at school, so Rose and Al weren't given much extra attention by the other students, except when they appeared with Malfoy, which was often. Scorpius was welcomed as a Slytherin Prince much as his father had been, a role he frequently complained about, to his friends, when the four of them could find time away from prying eyes, but Violet had rejected from the start the idea of filling her mother's shoes as a Princess of Slytherin. Instead, she was known as Malfoy's guard dog, a nickname that made Al bristle every time he heard it, even though Scorpius frequently said it was quite fitting, and Violet didn't seem bothered by it in the least.

While the friendship with Scorpius seemed rather effortless, being friends with Violet had never been easy for Al, though she got on well enough with Rose and just about every other member of his family, including his older brother (James was the only person he'd ever known to get away with calling the girl 'charming', even). She seemed to look for opportunities to argue with him, and when he failed to rise to her bait she would make him the target of her razor-sharp wit. They were polar opposites: Al the quiet, softspoken and studious Gryffindor and Violet the brash and often just shy of rude Slytherin with all the tact and grace of a nundu in a china shop. It wasn't so much that she didn't have manners, as Scorpius often said, it was simply that she couldn't be bothered to use them. Ever.

Regardless of how difficult Violet made his life, however, Al had inherited stubbornness from both sides of his family tree, and once he'd resolved to be friends with the troublesome tomboy of a girl, there was nothing she could do to push him away for long. By the time the holidays had rolled around, that first year, she seemed to have accepted this fact, and her outright verbal abuse of him ceased, though she still took advantage of every opportunity she could find to make him uncomfortable. When Al and Rose had made introductions on the platform, he had a sense that Violet's presence made Malfoy's almost preferable, possibly due to her surname, which raised as many questions as it had at school, though at least no one grilled her about it at the station.

The years passed in a blur, and it came as no surprise when Rose and Scorpius announced, in fifth year, that they were dating, though their fathers were less than pleased at this development, however obvious it may have seemed to everyone else. Al would never forget that holiday dinner at the Burrow, when his Granny Molly finally attempted to crack the mystery that was Violet by asking, while blithely passing a dish of potatoes, "So what is your mother doing these days, dear?"

Seated between Scorpius and Al, piling her plate with enough food to rival James, the girl had replied, in a perfect deadpan, "She's an exotic dancer."

The entire table went dead silent as almost everyone stared, but the stillness was broken by the sound of the dish falling to the floor, Molly having dropped it in her shock. Several of his uncles cleared their throats, and Ginny got up to help deal with the mess, while Rose elbowed Scorpius and hissed at him to stop smirking. It was the last time any of the Weasleys or Potters attempted to ask after Violet's mother.

When James cornered him later on that holiday season and asked when he and Violet were finally going to succumb to their mutual attraction, Al had stared at him as if James had sprouted a third eye in the center of his forehead. The irritating prat refused to let it go, however, mercilessly teasing his younger brother and extolling the many virtues of Violet, three-quarters of which Al was positive James had completely fabricated. It was entirely James' fault, then, that on the return trip to Hogwarts he found himself noticing the way her sweater hugged her torso, and the way her trousers emphasized her hips. Still dressed as a boy, there wasn't a chance in Hades that anyone would ever mistake her for one now.

Before he'd had time to process this new information and do something about it, she started spending time with Robert Corner, and Al felt the first bitter sting of jealousy. Corner was just the start of a whole string of boyfriends, all of whom Al felt were wholly unsuitable for her, but he stood by her side like the loyal 'friend' he was and said nothing whatsoever. Until her breakup with Morgan Nott shortly after the start of the term, when he found her crying in Myrtle's bathroom and finally confessed that he'd been harboring feelings for her for nearly two years.

Violet had reacted to the news in typical Violet fashion: she'd smacked his arm, told him he was being an idiot, and then kissed him. Mostly, Al remembered the kiss, and several other kisses, though he was always careful to respect her boundaries and not push her too much for fear she'd go off on him and put an end to what he was sure was the best time of his life. They'd been dating for several months, and had progressed as far as him getting his hand up her sweater, which made what Scorpius had said that much worse.

He should have known better than to pay attention to Malfoy and Nott when they were discussing women. For all that Scorpius was perfectly charming and attentive to Rose in public, the boy was a complete pervert when it was just the guys, and Al knew for a fact that the Hogwarts Head Boy had the biggest collection of contraband adult magazines in the history of the school... which was saying a lot, given how long Hogwarts had been around. Nott was the one who'd used the term 'MILF' with regard to Violet's mother, having met her over the summer, but Scorpius... Scorpius was the one who'd seen the look of confusion on his Gryffindor best friend's face and decided to educate him on the meaning of the term. With illustrations, no less, as he'd handed Al a fairly recent copy of 'Charming', featuring Pansy Parkinson as the centerfold witch.

All of this meant that he was most certainly _not_ in any way prepared to meet the woman he'd spent the last three weeks worshipping under cover of darkness and silencing charms in his bed, and there was no way he could possibly tell any of this to Violet. Instead, as the train pulled into the station, he kissed her forehead, reminded himself that he was a bloody Gryffindor, and stood up, offering her a hand. "What's the worst that can happen?"

* * *

Later, he would spend quite a lot of time mentally flogging himself for his choice of words. He should have Reducto'd his head and saved himself the trouble of suffering through meeting Ms Parkinson, who looked even better with clothes on than in the nude photos burning a hole in his suitcase (courtesy of Scorpius, of course). Everything he said, everything he did, seemed to come out wrong, and it wasn't helped by the fact that he heard a hidden innuendo in everything she said, or the sound of her voice, which was the sexiest thing he'd ever heard. Worst of all, though, he had the sneaking suspicion that Violet could see right through him, knew what he was thinking, and the single pained glance she shot him was enough to tie his stomach up in knots for the rest of the day.

Dinner was a nightmare, with Al trying desperately not to make a complete fool of himself while simultaneously praying to Merlin and whoever that Violet would forgive him the mental transgressions. He was grateful to finally be dismissed, mumbled something about not feeling well, and escaped to the guest room he'd been assigned, closing the door and leaning against it. A few quick charms later, and he was fumbling at his trouser button with one hand while making his way to where the suitcase lay open on the bed, mocking him.

His wand fell to the floor as he yanked his trousers down with both hands, his shorts following immediately afterward, and he hissed at the feel of the cool air against his overheated skin. Digging feverishly through the clothing, heedless of the pieces that were strewn about in his haste, he pulled the magazine out and climbed onto the bed with it, kicking the suitcase and scattered clothes aside as he lay back, flipping the pages with one hand while wrapping the other around himself. He held the centerfold photos up, his cheeks burning with shame as he let his imagination run wild, his eyes focusing on her mouth, imagining what it would feel like to have her lips and tongue in place of his hand. He knew it was wrong to feel this way, knew he shouldn't be having such thoughts about his girlfriend's _mother_, of all people, especially when he was barely getting physical with her daughter, but it didn't make him stop, didn't put Violet's face in his mind instead of Pansy's. He gripped himself that much tighter, increasing the pace of his strokes as he thought of what it would feel like to bury himself inside of her, and he bit his lip to keep from crying out as he came all over his hand.

"Was it good for you, Al?" Violet's voice came from a dark corner of the room, and his eyes opened wide as he sat up, blushing furiously as he wiped his hand on the bedclothes, wishing he hadn't dropped his wand so he could banish the incriminating evidence of his unfaithful thoughts.

"Violet," he whispered, trying in vain to locate her in the darkness.

"Did you enjoy fucking _my mother_ in your head?" she spat at him. He could hear the tears in her voice, and it made him feel even worse. She stepped out of the shadows, wearing nothing but a silk robe, tears glistening on her cheeks as she leaned forward to yank the magazine out of his hand. "How could you?"

"Violet," he whispered again, the word sounding strangled. Six and a half years he'd known the girl, and he'd only ever seen her cry on one other occasion; the fact that he was the one who'd brought tears to her eyes now was akin to a knife in the chest.

"You think it's easy growing up in her shadow?" Violet flung the magazine across the room, and Al flinched. "Slytherin's Princess my arse, she was Slytherin's fucking _sex toy_. You want to know why I called things off with Nott?" She stepped closer, and Al flinched back, wishing again he hadn't dropped his wand. "Because when I wouldn't give him what he wanted, over the summer, he went to _her_."

Al was horrified, although some part of him wondered how Nott was still managing to walk around with all of his parts attached, after betraying Violet in such a fashion. "Vi--" he began, only to fall silent as she shrugged out of the robe, his eyes going wide at the sight of her.

She shoved him backwards, crawled atop him and ran her hands up his chest. "She can't have you," she whispered fiercely, her eyes blazing with fury and something else that he sort of hoped was lust. "You're mine." Her whole body slid against his as she lowered to kiss him, and Al groaned into her mouth, his eyes half-closing as her mouth ravaged his, her fingers digging into his hair.

Pansy's face flickered briefly into view in his mind's eye, and then Violet's hand moved down to touch him, and the image shattered, replaced by the girl he'd spent two years fantasizing about before Scorpius gave him that magazine. She broke the kiss, nipped at his lower lip, her breathing ragged, and whispered, "Touch me."

He didn't need a second invitation; Albus brought his hands up, touching her naked chest for the first time. She shivered, her breath hot on his neck as her body bowed against his, and he hesitated, his voice thready as he asked her, "Are you sure?"

Violet raised her head, and this time there was no mistaking the fire in her eyes, even before she bared her teeth in a sneer. "Stop being such a fucking pansy and make like a caveman already," she hissed, her hand closing around him and making a quick stroke that had his hips lifting off the bed.

"Vi," he gasped, his hands fondling her chest, her skin soft beneath his fingers, the peaks of her breasts turning hard when he found them. Her hand moved on him again, and rational thought fled, leaving only instinct behind in its wake. He slid his arms around her and rolled them both over, then reached for her hands, twining his fingers with hers as his mouth sought hers, kissing her hungrily, sucking on her tongue before moving downward, lavishing attention to her neck. Her back arched, lifting her chest toward him, and she tried to free her hands, but he held on, moving lower and lapping at her skin with his tongue. It was uncharted territory, and he was determined to map it thoroughly, finally letting go of her hands so that he could run his own hands freely over her body.

He'd never before heard the sounds that were currently coming out of her mouth, though he'd thought about them often enough. He lapped at her chest, alternating between suckling her nipples and tweaking them with his fingers, even nipping with his teeth until she hissed at him and pushed his head down. Any remaining nervousness he might have felt at this being the first time for both of them was swept away the second her scent hit his nose, and his hands shoved her thighs apart, his head dipping so that he could taste her. Her hands fisted in his hair, pulling him closer as her hips bucked against him, and he was momentarily glad that he'd taken the time to read the other articles in the magazine. He worked his tongue against her and within her, and was rewarded with a cry when he worked a finger inside of her.

Her fingers tightened in his hair, and she ground her hips against his mouth, crying out again as her body shuddered. "Al," she panted, letting go of his hair and reaching for his shoulders, her hips still moving restlessly. "Al... please." He lifted his head, met her eyes, and crawled back up her body to kiss her deeply. Her hands caught his hips, then slid around to stroke him, and he groaned into her mouth. "Please," she gasped, when the kiss broke.

Her voice, her hands, her body shifting beneath him, all of it excited him, and his moaned as he entered her, harder than he'd intended. She gasped sharply, and he stopped, abruptly, halted by the tears in the corners of her eyes. "You okay?" he whispered, his hand stroking her cheek.

"Don't stop," she pleaded, her fingers digging into his hips. "I'm okay, please don't stop."

Al wanted to take it slow, wanted to give her time to adjust, but the need in her voice and the bruising grip of her fingers on his hips had him picking up his pace sooner than he'd planned. Some part of him was still terrified that they were making a mistake, and that same insecure part of him worried that he wouldn't be good enough, that she'd come to her senses and never want to see him again, but as he felt the pressure building, felt her writhing beneath him, he decided that none of that mattered. She clutched at him frantically, gasping and moaning and calling out his name - _his_ name - until he finally shuddered with release and shouted hers.

He'd expected it to be awkward, afterward, when breathing slowed and heart rates returned to normal, but it wasn't. When he wrapped her in his arms, Violet didn't protest, resting her head against his chest, and she started to talk. About her mother, and how she never knew who her father was, how difficult it had been as Pansy's daughter and how she'd rebelled against the idea of being just another girl after seeing how much freedom Scorpius had as a boy. They talked for hours, succumbing to hormones twice more before sleep finally claimed them, and they drifted off still holding each other sometime before dawn.

* * *

Pansy was in the kitchen when her visitor arrived, sipping tea and reading the Daily Prophet, and she didn't look up even though she knew he was there. Despite the early hour, and the dressing gown that molded to her figure, she didn't look as though she'd just gotten up, had taken the time to brush her hair and wash away the sleep from her face. "Something I can do for you, Theo?" she finally asked, after several minutes had ticked by without him saying anything.

"You had sex with my son?" She could tel lhe was angry, but she wasn't sure what exactly the cause for his anger was.

"I had sex with his father, too, but I didn't hear you complaining about it at the time," she drawled in reply, still not looking at him.

"Pansy," he growled, a warning note in his voice that finally brought her head up. Pushing forty and still sexy as hell, she had no clue how he did it. "Why did you sleep with my son?"

"It was easier than telling my daughter she was dating her brother."

Silence. As many times as she'd thought about telling him, she never would have imagined delivering the news in quite this fashion. Theo looked stunned, and he dropped into a chair, staring at her. "Violet is..."

"Yours," she confirmed, nodding.

"But you and Draco," he began, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"Were over before we started." Pansy rolled her eyes, waving a hand dismissively. "Besides, the Malfoys are so inbred it's a wonder he managed to pump enough into Astoria to get Scorpius."

"Pansy." It was less a warning this time, and she watched him trying not to laugh.

She sighed, pushing to her feet and rounding the table to stand behind him, her arms sliding around his neck. "I thought about telling you so many times, over the years, but it was never the right time. Besides, you've been happy with Daphne, you didn't need any more complications in your life."

"I would have taken care of you. Both of you."

"That's why I didn't tell you. You can be ridiculously sentimental, for a Slytherin."

"Does Draco know?"

"He knows she's not his. However much she and Scorpius used to look alike, when they were younger. I'm the only one who's ever seen you in her face." Pansy leaned down, kissed his cheek, and then let go of him, stepping back. "Thank you for stopping by, Theo, but I think you should go."

"About my son," he began, getting to his feet.

She smirked and shook her head. "He's got nothing on his father. Call it a moment of weakness. I'd appreciate if you kept the rest of this discussion between us."

"Done." Theo stepped closer, and she inhaled his scent, her eyes closing as he brushed a kiss to her forehead. "Goodbye, Pansy. Take care of yourself."

She waited until the kitchen was empty before murmuring, into the silence, "I always do."

**The End**

**Author's Note:** This is what happens when I go to bed with fanfic and smut on the brain, I wake up with ideas like this. Dedicated to SeraphimeRising, who threw crack and smut at me during the creative process. Just for her Al and Violet have their happy ending and smut. Love it? Hate it? Review and tell me why!!


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